Giana POV
Giana was a pistol in patina. If she was going to have to work for the pack, she was going to do it in style. Her emerald green dress was a sneeze away from being cocktail. A delicate gold chain hung around her collar, boasting a diamond that drew the eye to the dress’s deceptively modest neckline. The necklace was the first purchase she had made with the allowance alpha had given her for this job. Giana’s second purchase was a pair of slingback Jimmy Choo’s in a neutral suede. Golden-tan skin that gleamed from shoulders to wrist drew the eye to a glittering chunky watch her mother had given her when she got her GED. She looked good and she knew it.
There should be another month before she cycled. One month, to seduce the CEO of the marketing powerhouse company, Ingénue, before she went into heat and their alpha, Alphonse, expected results. The lack of supernatural pheromones didn’t stop men from oggling her as she made her way to the elevator. Giana not only anticipated this, she was banking on it. 32 floors, and Giana Delaurenti was headed straight to the top. There was a leather padfolio in her grip communicating she was here for business and yet…that outfit.
Who could resist a double take?
Giorgio De Ross was a CEO kingpin in Canadian advertising, and he was in want of an executive assistant. Tale as old as time: ace the interview, get the job, seduce the man and lure him back to the pack. Giana had never met Mr. De Ross before, but her pack—Giorgio’s pack—was huge. It was easy to get lost in a sea of faces, to never formally meet each member of your extended shifter family. As an unmated omega, Giana’s only hope to avoid becoming a nameless breeder was to hand a complete stranger back to their alpha on a silver platter. Mr. De Ross’s path to redemption in the eyes of the pack would be Giana’s ticket to freedom.
As the elevator climbed, three men kept her company. Giana felt their eyes on her as the numbers on the indicator went up. One even seemed to miss his stop, sheepishly rushing off on the wrong floor, then doubling back towards the stairs as the doors slid shut. These men were tall. Fit. Strapping through the shoulders and trim through the waist in their tailored suits. Giana barely reached their chests at 5’1”, but she wasn’t impressed by brawn. She had six werewolf brothers.
On the other hand, Mama always told her men liked women who were smaller than them. It made them feel more dominant. Even human men couldn’t resist a petite pin-up. Giana was interested in what she could use, even if it stung a little to play the submissive.
She might be low ranking in the pack, but Giana answered to no one but herself. Soon, not even Alphonse would touch her.
One by one the Nameless Men got off the elevator until she alone remained, climbing to an echelon all employees dream of visiting. Her fingers flexed around a pen. "Get a grip, Gia," she scolded herself. "This is just like teasing the boys back home..."
A ding, and the elevator whooshed open. Giana stepped out onto the poured-concrete of the 32nd floor. Checking her watch, she let out a deep breath. Her interview was scheduled to begin in five minutes. Perfectly on time. The click of her heels echoed as she approached the grand secretary desk, a bulwark against the empty waiting area.
It might have been intimidating if there was someone behind the desk to check her in. Odd. Giana pulled her phone from her bag and scrolled through her emails. Ten AM was her appointment time. So where was everybody?
She only had four minutes now, if she wanted to be early. Giana strutted by the vacant desk, knocking on the heavy double doors behind it. There was a pause; then the door opened from the inside, silently, on hinges that swung butter smooth.
Giorgio De Ross looked even better in person.
He had dark olive skin that belonged on private beaches year-round. Nutty hazel eyes. Sultry cupids-bow mouth. Brunette hair so rich it seemed black at first glance, finger-combed into soft waves that should have looked messy, but instead lent him an approachability that sent her heart cantering. Giana stole a few extra seconds than was polite with her bambi-eyed stare, spotting a thatch of grey-white at his temple, before reality brought her back to sense.
His office was a disaster.
Day old bagels and half a dozen paper coffee cups were littered across every surface. The conference table was a mountain of memos and mail, weighted in some areas by the mugs, with no clear attempts at even basic sorting. The eye-catching executive desk that took up most of the far side of the room was serving as a pedestal for a corrugated box overflowing with…pens?
On the side of the box was printed in a pretty script:
Je Pen
“Ms. Delaurenti?" His voice was a deep tenor, almost baritone; that type of voice that would be great in a podcast until you saw them in person and found they didn't have the face to match.
Mr. De Ross surpassed expectations.
Nodding, a little thrown by the contradiction of his presentation, and the state of his workspace, Giana answered, "Yes. I'm here for the interview."
He gave her a warm smile. "Perfect. If you'll just follow me, we can begin...I'm sure we can clear of a spot...”
She followed. By the conference table, floor-to-ceiling glass panels filled the exterior wall. Mr. De Ross hesitated when he found the chair he’d pulled for her was occupied by a takeout bag, which he promptly removed and invited her to sit.
It was Giana's turn to hesitate, but only for a moment. Would sitting there leave a grease stain on her dress? “Think about your future,” she thought, settling into the chair.
Her potential boss cleared his throat, straightening the cuffs of his white shirt. He seemed nervous, and sure enough, when she studied his face, Giana thought she could spot a faint blush on the CEO's cheeks.
“I apologize for the state of things. My last assistant quit without notice, and I’m notoriously bad at staying organized.”
Clearly.
He lifted his eyes to her, and their gazes met. Giana liked how he waited for her to tell him she didn't mind. How his lips parted as the silence grew longer, edging on uncomfortable. She released the tension with her prettiest smile. “That’s why you need me, right?”
His biceps made the fabric strain around his arms as he lowered himself into a chair across the table. Giana tried to be obvious about taking notice. Could he scent her interest? She’d been off of her esterous blockers for two week, so any pheromones shouldn’t come off as more than human attraction. Not enough to rouse his suspicion.
De Ross cleared his throat again, tenting his hands on the table. “Right. Of course.” He made a show of shuffling through some of the papers, lifting and replacing a mug, before continuing without notes. “I saw on your resume that you’ve worked for the Debussy firm. That’s a world-class company. What made you leave?”
Giana gave a polite smile. The lie came easily. “I outgrew my position. Now I'm looking for a challenge; something to really fill me up—fill my plate, I mean.” His brows shot up, and she beamed with a look of pure innocence until he began to mess with the papers again.
Nothing like gaslighting to keep him on his toes. In Gia's defense, her credentials were fraudulent. If anyone from HR tried to call her references, they’d be answered by underlings of her alpha, but if they called someone from Debussy Law? This could all end before it began. So she had to lay it on thick. De Ross didn’t have a reputation for sleeping around with his staff, but he was warm-blooded, and even betas had basic mating instincts.
For good measure, she added, “I could have stayed at Debussy for my entire career, but I’m only twenty two…and there might have been a few figures here at Ingénue who caught my eye. I'm hoping to find a position here more gratifying than my previous work.”
He looked up and searched her face. She waited, and finally he nodded, composing himself with professional neutrality. “Why the change of industry, from law to advertising?”
“Diversifying my expertise.” A crease appeared between his brows, and her heart hammered. Was that the wrong thing to say? “I'm curious by nature. It’s not just the challenge that excites me, but the surprises I discover along the way.”
It was hard not to wince at the long, cold stare he gave her. Here was a man who fought his way to the top in corporate. A man who escaped pack life, and was so influential he needed to be lured into a trap to be taken down.
Giana swallowed hard, and wished she had some water. If she was hired, she swore to herself that none of his clients would have to endure this stare without refreshment. Just when she was sure he was going to reject her, she shifted slightly in her chair. His nostrils flared.
Bingo.
While Mr. De Ross's eyes were dilating, his breathing becoming a bit more labored, Giana decided to trust her instincts and go off script. Opening her padfolio, she uncapped her pen and lowered her eyes to the legal pad within. “Tell me about your pay range for this position.” She lowered her voice to a sultry suggestion.
“What?”
The word came out distracted. Goodie. “If you aren’t prepared to discuss compensation, then I’m afraid I can’t consider this position, Mr. De Ross,” she said. A moment passed as the tension rose, De Ross no doubt trying to parse the growing gap between his thoughts and his instincts. Then she said, “This job demands anticipating every need of my employer. Doing so well requires certain degree of intimacy, don’t you think? I see compensation as a sign of respect for my commitment to you...and to Ingénue.”
Giorgio rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the growing knot between them. His stony business face was fighting to make a comeback. “This is a team environment; very french. You’ll find we encourage a healthy work-life balance, if that’s what you’re concerned about—”
Seriously? She hadn’t expected that. He still sounded a bit disoriented, so she tried to refocus. “You do pay your assistants, don’t you, Mr. De Ross? In more than generous vacation packages?”
He answered, rotely but firmly, “HR handles compensation…but I can tell you, our company is competitive.”
Giana goaded him with a soft snort. Mr. De Ross frowned. Under her breath, just loud enough for him to hear, she grumbled, “So they all say, and yet a girl leaves unsatisfied.”
Closing her padfolio, Giana looked up at him and said frankly, “Do you have any other questions?”
He blinked long lashes at her, gripping the arms of his ergonomic office chair with wide hands that she looked forward to feeling on her body.
“I’m not used to being told what to do, you know.”
Giana gave an abrupt, delighted laugh. Her reaction was genuine, and she fought to reign it in as she fired her parting words like a silver bullet. “That’s part of my job, isn’t it? Being the voice of reason to call you to heel, when you’re too caught up in being The Boss bother cleaning up…”
He looked out the window at the city skyline. She gave him 3…2…1…then sighed, as if messing with this Big Powerful Man wasn't terribly fun. “Thank you for meeting with me. I’ll give you time to think it over.” She stood to leave.
“Wait.”
Giana did not wait.
Giorgio De Ross, CEO of Ingénue and host of this job interview for a much lower position in the company, followed her towards the door and said in a rush, “This is terribly unprofessional of you—to end the interview like this.”
Giana called over her shoulder, “And it would be a bad idea to hire a woman so headstrong? I’m sure that’s what your board would say, if they knew.” She wrapped painted nails around the handle of the exterior doors and paused, meeting his eye with an exacting stare. “But who you want isn’t up to them. Is it, Gio?”
Then she walked out of the building into February snow without looking back and called an Uber.
HR called early the next day.
Their offer was so obscene, Giana choked on her coffee when she heard it.
